


A Thousand Things You Don't Know (the no fucking rules remix)

by kaizoku



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has to learn how to get out of his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Things You Don't Know (the no fucking rules remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emjayelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Though You Were Only Sparring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/602837) by [Emjayelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/pseuds/Emjayelle). 



> Thank you to [flammablehat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/) for handholding, encouraging and betaing. Thank you to [aistreach](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aistreach/) for reading, pointing me in the right direction, and putting up with my angsting.
> 
> Also, thanks to venivincere and sapphirescribe for running the camelotremix challenge and being so patient with me.
> 
> Finally, thank you to my remixee. The best part of this process was discovering and reading Emjayelle's fantastic stories! P.S. Happy birthday!

_He wanted a thousand things and didn’t know any of them_

 

~

 

Arthur had brought Merlin a flagon of his father's best wine. He wasn't accustomed to making such gestures, but Merlin _had_ saved Arthur's life. "Even if," Arthur said, "it was only by clumsily tripping over your own feet." Merlin just smiled, eyes twinkling; Arthur found himself gazing a bit too long and started pouring and they had proceeded to get very drunk together.

He felt himself beginning to come down on the way back to his chambers and tried to hold on to that lovely floating feeling. Everything was good right now, the kingdom was safe, Merlin was warm at his side, and he could relax--

Perhaps he was a bit too relaxed, because the floor jumped up in a surprising fashion and Arthur could feel himself falling, very slowly it seemed, but he was helpless to do anything.

Merlin was trying to prop him up, but he was suddenly as heavy and immovable as a large boulder, though he wasn't wearing armour. It was funny, and he turned into Merlin, to try to help or share the joke - he wasn't sure - Merlin's hair and soft skin brushing against his face, his eyes laughing and glinting gold, and then Arthur's foot caught on something and he wound up knocking into Merlin, pinning him to the wall, and it wasn't funny any more. He was pressed up against Merlin and he could smell him, could almost taste the sweat on Merlin's throat -- and Arthur's chest felt like a green log catching fire, sparks crackling and racing along his nerves.

How had they even ended up here, tumbled like dominoes against the wall? He remembered the whole course of the evening, the wine, the music, the way they had orbited each other -- a blur of eyes catching, Merlin's hand brushing his -- he had a sense that it was leading somewhere, but he hadn't imagined it would lead here, to literally colliding with each other.

It felt good though. 

Merlin shifted under him, his pulse quickening, and Arthur felt his Adam's apple rise and tighten as Merlin swallowed, felt it with his lips, and his own pulse seemed to double and his hips jerked forward without conscious thought. Merlin's arms came up to embrace him and he wanted to press into him, to get as close as possible, skin to skin--

Wait. He was drunk and probably stupid with wine, sure, but he wasn't _that_ drunk, and here he was rutting like a boar against his servant, and it felt fantastic, but. He couldn't.

Arthur tried to get some air, shoving away with a kind of clumsy, drunken strength that made him stumble back several feet, his back hitting the wall where he reached a state of inertia and stared dumbfounded at Merlin, who looked bewildered, almost scared, and Arthur's breath caught and hurt in his chest. He felt something like humiliation welling up, but then he looked more closely and realisation dawned on him.

Arthur was trained to read an opponent's body, not like _this_ , but he couldn't help seeing the signs that Merlin was in the same condition as he was -- face flushed, eyes dilated, cock proudly tenting the front of his trousers. 

"Arthur," Merlin said and Arthur jerked his eyes back up. There was a look of tentative hope on his face. Arthur tried to clear his head, to look at the situation objectively.

Lust. It was lust and impulsivity. Taking advantage of someone who couldn't refuse. Though, no, he didn't really believe that. Not with Merlin, who ignored every other order from him.

"Don't," he said when Merlin took a step forward, his eyes making their own assessment. Arthur didn't know what he was doing, he needed to _think_ but his head felt light and airy and he just wanted to touch, to take, his hands shaking with the need to do -- something. Arthur raised an imperious hand to stop Merlin, aware of the absurdity as he did so, but unable to stop himself.

Maybe, he reasoned, maybe he could just get rid of his arousal and then he would be a reasonable human being again. In retrospect, it didn't make much sense, but there in the dark hallway, the wine still exerting its influence, it seemed like a brilliant idea, absolute genius. He let his hand drop to the placket of his breeches and rub over his cock. Something he knew how to do, and do well. Something familiar.

He was telling Merlin to stay back even as he drew his cock out, and the whole swirl of panic and doubt blotted out as he touched himself, watching Merlin's eyes darken and focus on the movement of his hand.

He took a deep breath.

"Tell me," Arthur said, stumbling over the words. He steadied his voice. "Do you want this, Merlin?" 

"Yes! Arthur," Merlin said urgently. He was desperate, tensed as if for a fight, his fists curling and opening. "Can I just--"

"No," Arthur stopped him. "Just say it. Just… tell me what you want."

He expected resistance. But Merlin sagged back, giving a squeeze to the bulge in his trousers, and looked right at him. The raw vulnerability in his eyes made Arthur shiver.

"I want to touch you -- God, Arthur, I need it. Why can't I --"

Arthur shook his head, his hand moving faster; he was panting.

Merlin groaned. "I want to see you fall apart, watch you spend and then-- then I want to lick the spunk from your fingers, want to taste it."

"Oh, fuck," Arthur said, feeling his face heat. That was--

Merlin seemed to hesitate. "I-- is this--?"

"Yes! Keep going," he ordered.

Merlin tensed even more and dug his hands into the brick of the wall behind him.

"I want to do everything to you, Arthur. Want to touch you all over." Arthur shuddered.

Merlin's voice was ragged, and he stopped, swallowed. "I want to see you, all of you in the daylight. Want to look at your big gorgeous cock and wrap my hands around it. And then I would lick it." Arthur groaned and Merlin continued. "I'd put it in my mouth and suck on it."

Arthur was shaking now, feeling the pressure building in his balls, staring at Merlin's mouth -- what would it feel like? Better than his hand surely, wet and hot and close. He moved his tongue in his own mouth and wetted his lips, imagining it. Imagined Merlin doing it to him.

"You'd be so hot for it," Merlin said. "All your muscles tensed, trying not to shove in. And I'd want you to. I'd want you to let go and push deep into my throat. I'd let you do it."

Arthur tossed his head back, his hand working faster, his eyes slitted. He was right on the edge. He was hardly even hearing the words now, just seeing the picture Merlin painted in his mind.

"Do you want that, Arthur?"

"Yes-- God, yes," he breathed.

"And do you--" Merlin swallowed. "Would you want to touch me?"

Arthur closed his eyes. He couldn't stop pulling his cock, but his hand slowed and the rush faded for a moment. He tried to think of something to say, but--

"Merlin. I can't." He sounded harsh, even to himself. He opened his eyes to look at Merlin and saw the disappointment flash across his face. 

Arthur cleared his throat. "But, tell me. Tell me what you think about." He widened his stance, gripping his cock as if to display it, hoping that Merlin wouldn't let him down now. He was so close.

Merlin gave him a look he couldn't quite read, but then he shivered and seemed to be trying to find his place again. Eyes averted, he started to speak again. It was quieter this time, almost a whisper, and Arthur had to strain to hear it over the sound of his own rapid breath. The stairwell was dark and still, the torch guttering low, and Merlin's voice mesmerized him, crept into the air around him and soaked into his skin, like warm rain into parched earth.

"I think about you all the time. I want to give you everything, want you to take everything I have to offer. I dream about you pushing me down on your bed, some morning when I come to wake you -- or, or late at night. To feel you test your strength against mine and win. I know it's not... proper, but I want to feel your cock inside me. Not just in my mouth, but buggering me. I've done it to myself, put my fingers in my arse, Arthur. Imagining it was you. Can you imagine it? I want you to do that, to take me like that."

It was -- strange, all wrong, something he had only heard spoken of as a joke, and perversely it made Arthur come like crazy, globs of white fluid spurting and slicking his hand, and he kept going, bent over, for far longer than he usually did, each pulse making his hips stutter. He moaned so loudly it echoed down the hall, but all he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his head.

When he could see again, Merlin was splayed against the wall, clutching his manhood. His laces were half-open, his hand disappearing into his breeches, his ears and face flushed and eyes dark. Arthur didn't know where to look or what to do. He looked down and tried to wipe at the mess he'd made of his tunic, but only smeared it further. He gave up, wiping his palm off against the cold stone of the wall behind him.

He was spent, exhausted.

"I need to... go," he said awkwardly. Merlin bit his lip and Arthur turned and stumbled away, trying not to think about what had just happened.

At the top of the stairs, he paused, hearing the slap of skin and harsh breaths as Merlin found his own release. He thought of what Merlin had said, about wanting to taste, wanting to _see_ , and suddenly he was wide awake and not nearly as drunk as he wished he was.

 

~

 

Arthur woke before dawn, the jumble of the previous night's events disquieting in the gray half-light. He thought of Merlin's pale, sweat-beaded face with a sense of illness and almost reached for the chamberpot to heave, but the sensation passed and Arthur recognised it as the effect of hangover. He thought about getting a potion from Gaius, before falling back into a fitful sleep.

Arthur couldn't help but smirk at the the actual sight of Merlin later that day, looking the worse for their carousing the night before. Merlin flushed when he noticed Arthur walking up behind him, alerted by the clinking of the keys on his belt.

"Merlin," he said, mock-disapproving, just to see what kind of reaction he could provoke. "You're looking peaky."

Arthur was vindicated when Merlin rolled his eyes and Arthur gave him a light shove.

"What are you doing, you giant arse?" Merlin said indignantly.

"Turn. Walk," Arthur ordered, earning a put-upon sigh. There was an alcove just next to the armory. It had seen many a tryst, Arthur knew. He'd never used it himself. 

Merlin stopped when he saw where Arthur intended them to go.

"It's the middle of the day," he hissed, as if he hadn't been saying entirely filthy things the night before.

"The walls are thick down here," Arthur said when Merlin hesitated in the doorway, then slyly, "Don't you want me? It sounded like it last night."

He put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, letting his thumb linger over Merlin's collarbone.

"God, yes." Merlin gasped. "Are we going to--?"

Arthur glanced at his hopeful face, then focused on undoing his laces. His fingers weren't working very well today.

"Not now. Just... tell me more..."

**Author's Note:**

> With this remix, I was interested in exploring why Arthur didn't feel comfortable touching Merlin or letting himself be touched, but in the end it stayed somewhat mysterious. The "no fucking rules" refers to the fact that in my story Arthur himself doesn't see it as a _rule_ and in fact has no idea of what the rules are for the situation.


End file.
